In many areas of life, I feel as if I am being pitted against generation Z by forces outside my control. We are endlessly reminded that they are pampered and feckless, addicted to social media and unable to cope in the real world. They are all too well aware that older generations are rapacious and unrepentant, about to bequeath them a pension crisis and a rapidly heating planet. It’s Capulets and Montagues, TikTok v Twitter, avocado smashers against latte swillers – there is no common ground. Except, apparently, for my local gym.
Here, among the treadmills and rowing machines, the kids are putting us to shame. For one thing, they are up early. I, a grown man with a full-time job, usually drag myself in by about 7.30am, by which time the squat racks are already packed with people. It starts to empty out by 8am, as the students head off to 9am lectures – something I would have considered an affront to human dignity during my history and politics degree.
